


since brevity is the soul of wit

by caesarions



Series: tantae molis erat! [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, Ancient Egypt, Ancient History, Ancient Rome, Blood and Injury, Christianity, Cute Kids, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Foreshadowing, Hot Weather, Loneliness, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Politics, Saturnalia, Separations, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-07-03 23:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesarions/pseuds/caesarions
Summary: —and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, i will be brief.An APH Ancients-centered drabble series. Each drabble is 300 words or less. The characters or ships are mentioned in the chapter titles.





	1. the ptolemies; ancient egypt/ancient greece.

**Author's Note:**

> event: hetalia writer's discord's drabble game
> 
> prompt: water
> 
> names:
> 
> ancient egypt - sekhet (one who is powerful)
> 
> ancient greece - helen (shining bright)
> 
> ancient macedonia - timandros (the honor of man)

“Is this all you do in life?” Helen asked as they floated on a reed boat down the Nile.

They watched as the river passed them, quite as their lives had, sparkling like a golden scarab in the sunset lighting.

“Hardly, my dear,” Sekhet laughed. Like a honey trap, she had lured Helen on this boat trip with an ulterior motive—to find out what was going on at home. Sekhet revealed all secrets on this boat. When two people were alone together, an oxymoron, and isolated from the world by a body of water, they were more likely to leave their secrets on the wooden floor. “I deal with the Greek government that you have sent me, for one.”

“These are not my men!” Helen insisted, as Sekhet knew her lover would. An eternity spent together often wore away any emotional protection one had, especially when they were only a short sail away. “They come from Alexander, from his successor Ptolemy, whose men come from Timandros’ stock.”

Continuing, Helen stuck her nose up in contempt. “I have no love for the Macedonians, no matter how much love Timandros has for me. They are no true Greeks. If they were, they would be in the Olympics. Only now can their royal family participate. Gods, Timandros’s tears that time of year could have filled this entire river.”

Later, when they were not lounging on a boat (where Helen could throw her overboard), Sekhet would figure out how to tell her lover that they all looked the same to her.


	2. asian flush; china/rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: creators of hetalia's prompt weekend
> 
> prompt: blushing + untidy
> 
> names:
> 
> china - wang min (clever king)
> 
> rome - lucius marius priscus romulus (shining; of mars or masculine; ancient; the mythical founder, 'mr. rome')
> 
> *this drabble takes place during china’s first visit to rome in 210 ad. more specifically, it takes place after the second chapter of ài de lǐwù, where china forces him to try strong chinese alcohols.

“How much did we drink last night?”

When Romulus received no response, he rolled on his side to face Min. The Chinese man, lying on his stomach with his face buried in the pillows, showed no signs of life.

After a heartbeat of silence, Min finally spoke, muffled by the fabric. “It is not how much we drank, but the caliber of it.”

“Don’t do so much philosophizing in the morning,” Romulus warned, rubbing at his temples, which throbbed as methodically as a marching legion. “I can get used to your Chinese alcohol eventually.”

Eventually, Romulus stopped seeing double. He realized, for the first time, that Min’s hair was just that untidy. Drunkards did not think to brush their hair before fumbling into bed, but Romulus had been sure that Min would be the exception. The usual black silk had turned frizzy, baby hairs sticking out in every which way, almost as if it a trap.

Well, Romulus was falling into it.

He felt his skin heat up the longer he stared. Into the humming serenity of the morning, Luca mumbled, “I’ve never seen your hair this messy before.”

“Ah, shit.” Min finally raised his head from his nocturnal hiding place. There was another pleasant surprise—his round, moon face was flushed. Though Romulus normally would have enjoyed the show, he lost track of Min smoothing down his hair, as he was too busy staring at Min’s rosebud cheeks.

Romulus had to laugh. “You’re still red from drinking last night? I’ve never seen such a thing around here.”

“Yes, because it is natural for  _my_  people.” Min pointed at Romulus’ one weakness—the sanguine blush in his ears. “What is your excuse?”

The Roman gaped before hanging his head in shame. Only Min could call him out so thoroughly.

“I don’t have one.”


	3. tyrian purple; carthage & rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: hetalia writer's discord's drabble game
> 
> prompt: morning + purple
> 
> names:
> 
> carthage - anysus barca (lost to history, lightning)
> 
> etruria - aranth repesuna (prince, lost to history)
> 
> rome - lucius marius priscus romulus (shining; of mars or masculine; ancient; the mythical founder, 'mr. rome')

“Why do you get to wear purple?”

Anysus glanced down at himself, something the awkward young man did not do often. The pair played in the Etruscan courtyard until Aranth, Anysus' babysitter and Romulus' brother, returned from his meeting. Under the morning sun, the Tyrian purple tunic blazed a blinding magenta.

"Because it's our color," Anysus answered Romulus, as he had been taught to by his father, Tyre himself. "We make it from snails. Sorry, snails."

"I see people wear it that aren't Phoenician." Romulus moved his rock on the Rota game-board. They had drawn it in the dirt earlier in the morning, so it already faded away. "Purple is expensive. They just have to have a lot of money."

"Don't you?" Anysus tilted his head innocently. He moved his rock, but Romulus had blocked him from getting three-in-a-row. "You can just buy a purple tunic. From me, preferably." Left unspoken: to replace whatever ragged piece he was wearing, dusty as the ground.

"You can't just buy things!" Romulus squeaked. Even while sitting, he had to look up at Anysus. Clearing his throat, he slammed his rock into its next space. "Besides, I should just take one of yours. You have lots."

"If you can manage to," the Carthaginian laughed, but when he went to move his next rock, Romulus held his wrist in a vice grip.

"I think I can manage," the Roman said. Anysus had let the game get away from him, let Romulus connect three rocks right under his nose. The proof was in the morning’s upturned dirt: Romulus had already won.

 

 


	4. constantinople; china/rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: hetalia writer's discord's drabble game
> 
> prompt: chance + luck
> 
> names:
> 
> china - wang min (clever king)
> 
> rome - lucius marius priscus romulus (shining; of mars or masculine; ancient; the mythical founder, 'mr. rome')

"We're just lucky we can meet at all anymore," Romulus lamented, running his fingers through Min's midnight hair as they reclined in bed. It only seemed to get longer with time, unlike Romulus' possible lifespan. "How terrible that Ardashir used to keep us apart, but now the only problem is me."

They were not in his _domus_ in Rome. They were not even in his villa in Baiae. They were in some Greek city that had just been founded—Constantinople? Min didn't like Greek things. He always let the Indians have the Greeks, just as he had the Romans in his pocket. He looked around at the gaudy Christian decor of the new place, all jarringly different from Romulus' usual tastes. The Roman didn't want to be here either, Min thought, as he felt Romulus' hands quiver in his hair.

"Do you think Ardashir became the middleman of the Silk Road by chance? He knew what would happen," Min shrugged. "We're just lucky he didn't stop us sooner."

"Oh, let's not... speak of him. Or any politics, for that matter," Romulus tittered as if he had been forced at a German's knifepoint. He continued to brush Min's hair in jerky, neurotic movements. "What should we do together in the new city first? I haven't seen much yet."

Pursing his lips, Min politely pretended to enjoy having his hair ripped out of his head. "Oh, is it really that new? Lucky timing. Well, we could..."

"It wasn't by chance," Romulus whispered fiercely. He let go, and Min's hair fell lonely on his back, heavier than any weight. After a strangling heartbeat, Min rolled around to face him, tears burgeoning in Romulus' eyes. "I need you now."


	5. after the ptolemies; ancient egypt/rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: creators of hetalia's prompt weekend
> 
> prompt: lesson + red
> 
> names:
> 
> ancient egypt - sekhet (one who is powerful)
> 
> rome - lucius marius priscus romulus (shining; of mars or masculine; ancient; the mythical founder, 'mr. rome')

"Your face is red."

"Thank you, Sekhet, for your infinite wisdom," Romulus huffed. They were alone, so he leaned against a sandstone pillar in the Ptolemies' previous court.

Sekhet had survived various foreign governments in her millenniums on this Earth. There was no precedent to say that she could not survive another. However, none of their representatives had ever been so thoroughly unprepared for the weather. She bit the carmine rouge off of her lips as she watched Romulus struggle. Cleopatra popularized the red coloring. Sekhet always gravitated towards orange or magenta herself, but the Ptolemaic royal promised it looked good on her.

It was one of their last interactions.

Trying to cool his face off on the sandstone proved unsuccessful. He had to jump around because the floor's heat shot through his military-grade sandals like Apollo's arrows. The movement raised his body heat more, and his usually handsome curls faltered with sweat.

"Have you learned your lesson yet? Or will the rest of your _people coming over_ ," she grimaced as she controlled the acid in her voice, "suffer the same fate as you?"

Hiding behind the safety of the pillar, Romulus huffed again. "We'll just get used to it."

One could laugh that Romulus was far too proud to leave behind his mask of traditional military regalia, or one could pity him. It was up to the gods to decide. Luckily, Sekhet was named after a goddess herself.

"You have been, and always will be," Sekhet retorted, "a fool."


	6. longing-distance; china/rome & female china.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: creators of hetalia's prompt weekend
> 
> prompt: longing 
> 
> names:
> 
> china - wang min (clever king)
> 
> female china - fan yaling (example; elegant/graceful, tinkling of jade)

“Did you not get this out of your system on the journey back?”

“Shut up, Yaya!” The nearest pillow was thrown her way. Unintentionally, it revealed more of Min’s hiding spot.

After finally acclimating to the lovingly warm and honey-slow climate of the Mediterranean, Min had returned home in the middle of the infamous Chinese winter. Wrapping himself up in a bundle of blankets on his stove bed, Min also shoveled soup into his mouth. It was all a compensation.

“Do not ignore me,” his sister ordered. She hopped onto the bed and interrupted his brooding bubble. “It is okay to be upset. I am just not used to it.”

“And you think _I_ am?” Min went to eat more soup and found the bowl empty. He put it down in his pile of other bowls. When Yaling saw his pitiful collection, she sighed.

“Can you even see?” Min’s hair fell unwashed and uncombed in front of his eyes. Yaling managed to push the strands back, even while Min batted her hands away. The face that stared back at her was puffy and red.

“You are going to have to start from the beginning,” Yaling said kindly. She attempted to clear the crumbs and bowls away. “I do not know what is wrong. He must have been more than just a good kisser.”

“Don’t be embarrassing, Yaya!” Min yelled shrilly. He threw himself back down and hid his face with the blanket instead.

It was about time men learned how to deal with their feelings. Smiling wryly, she leaned over her brother and peeled the blanket down. His eyes were freshly inflamed. “Do you miss him?”

“...Maybe,” Min huffed. He sniffled. “Yes.”


	7. the crisis; rome & south italy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: creators of hetalia's prompt weekend
> 
> prompt: bloody
> 
> names:
> 
> rome - lucius marius priscus romulus (shining; of mars or masculine; ancient; the mythical founder, 'mr. rome')
> 
> n. italy - agrippa marius priscus (unknown meaning; same as above)*
> 
> s. italy - andrea marius priscus (manly; same as above)
> 
> *my modern names for the boys are angelo and andrea. see my fic 'jiāchǒu bùkě wàiyáng' for more of an explanation on why i change them from canon and their evolution from roman times. thank you!

Little feet pitter-pattered their way across the atrium—hey! They were quite big feet now, if Andrea did say so himself. He looked more and more like his father each day. If he wrestled enough in the Baths of Caracalla, he could be as strong as him, too.

His footsteps echoed and escaped into the ceiling. Although empty now, the atrium would be swarmed by his father's visitors very soon. It was harder now with his adolescent frame, but Andrea would hide in the shadows, among the peeling wall paintings of melancholic heroes, and watch each meeting.

His father said it was a learning experience. Andrea didn't know what he was learning for.

Bursting through Romulus' cubiculum door even stronger than the morning sun, Andrea yelled, "Hey! Why aren't you up yet, pater?" He had checked the sundial in the peristyle when no one had woken him. Because of this, little Agrippa still slept.

It was late.

Andrea's only response was a centuries-long groan. Romulus lied facing the wall, so Andrea stomped across the bedroom floor. He rolled his father over by the shoulder.

Immediately, the groan devolved into an animalistic yelp. When their eyes met—the same pair of impenetrable earth brown eyes—both men were blinking owlishly.

Andrea glanced at Romulus' nearest arm, which had been jerked against the bed. An ugly sanguine seeped through his linen bandages.

"What's that, pater?" Andrea squeaked and shrunk. He didn't want to touch the arm in case it was cold—or hot. "I thought that one was from your last campaign."

"...Yes," his father confirmed. His big, strong father. "It is."

Andrea found himself being lifted into the bed. He was too old to be in Romulus' lap, but they certainly tried.

"We're not telling your brother about this, okay?"


	8. from serica; china/rome & female rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: hetalia writer's discord's drabble game
> 
> prompt: decadence 
> 
> names:
> 
> rome - lucius marius priscus romulus (shining; of mars or masculine; ancient; the mythical founder, 'mr. rome')
> 
> female rome - maria (feminine version of romulus' nomen, their family name)

“I thought this would all fit into one drawer,” Romulus mumbled, daintily putting his gifts away. He handled the silks as if they were precious jewels—which, they did cost more than. After traveling halfway across the world, there was danger of rips and tears.

“I think the ban was stupid,” he continued. He sat on his bedroom floor and faced his trouble of storage head-on. Rainbows of decadent silks exploded from the dresser, though the empires had only written a few letters back and forth so far. Perhaps they would send less gifts when they stopped trying to impress each other. Or, perhaps the gifts had already taken on another meaning. “It’s not as if I wear silk outside. You’ll get robbed, even at the nicest of baths. Plus, most of them are cut for skinnier men.”

“You have my permission to stop humble-bragging,” Maria laughed at her brother.

“Sorry!” Romulus tried to laugh back at her, but it came out as a sigh. “The purpose of the ban isn’t even economic. That’s what upsets me.”

“I understand,” Maria replied. None of her pieces were as meaningful, because they did not come directly from the Seres themselves.

She couldn’t understand. Romulus had always carefully balanced the _mos maiorum_ and his own feelings. Even with the Republic freshly behind them, it was still becoming harder by the day. It had never been the _mos maiorum_ versus a potential relationship before.

“Come on.” His face must have revealed all, for Maria shoved a cup of wine in his direction. “Drink when you hear something stupid an old man would say. _I can see clothes of silk, if materials that do not hide the body, nor even one's decency, can be called clothes_...”

The twins laughed and toasted. “Nobody cares, Seneca.”


	9. lion dogs; china/mongolia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: creators of hetalia's prompt weekend
> 
> prompt: bed + guard
> 
> names:
> 
> china - wang min (clever king)
> 
> mongolia - muunokhoi (vicious dog)
> 
> min's chow chow - baozi (a type of filled bun)
> 
> min's pekingese - jinjin (gold)
> 
> putting a drabble from the yuan dynasty in an ancients series is a S T R E T C H since this scene takes place around 1280 ad but whaddya gonna do? sue me?

"I gave you that Chow Chow as a guard dog," Muunokhoi reminded the other, "and you're making him fat. You even named him after food."

"Do not speak of our son like that!" Min covered Baozi's ears. The growing puppy covered Min's entire lap like a russet bush. "I am not forcing him to do anything. Baobao can do as he likes."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Muunokhoi sighed. "Baozi is a dog."

Now, the pair played tug-of-war on Min's bedroom floor. Since Min hadn't changed out his court hanfu, it was quite the sight to see. Baozi's paws stepped all over Min's silks instead of batting away intruders, but Min didn't seem to mind for once.

"You would never say such things about your horses," Min protested from below. "Or perhaps you would, since your kind does not name them."

"That's only because— oh, never mind." It was like arguing with the Great Wall itself. "I should have known. Your kind always ruins dogs."

"I know you are speaking of Jinjin!" Min reached up to the foot of the bed and covered his Pekingese's ears. Jinjin could always be found in his proud position, ready to warm Min's feet at night. During the day, he hid in Min's sleeves, ready to bark at stupid officials. It was a tough job, but some dog had to do it. "There is nothing wrong with a lap dog. Everyone needs a little company now and then."

Muunokhoi crossed his arms. "If you cannot find other humans."

"Is that why Kublai Khan has adopted so many Lion Dogs, then?"

Muunokhoi grimaced; people were certainly worse company than horses. Perhaps any dog, too. Feeling Min's sharp eyes on him, Muunokhoi walked over to the bed. He patted little Jinjin gently. "...Good boy."


	10. saturnalia; china/rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: hetalia writer's discord's drabble game
> 
> prompt: candlelight + nightfall 
> 
> names:
> 
> china - wang min (clever king)
> 
> rome - lucius marius priscus romulus (shining; of mars or masculine; ancient; the mythical founder, 'mr. rome')

" _Io Saturnalia_!"

Min awoke to an oil lamp and a kiss being shoved in his vicinity. Though only semi-conscious, he moved his hair away from the burning liquid. The Chinese man had almost died so many times during the Roman holiday that he had lost count.

But that was what made it fun. Min normally planned his visits during the summer to get a taste of the honey-sweet sunshine that never graced his own lands. Romulus had convinced him to come down, just this once, during the winter to celebrate with him. Warmer than any winter Min would experience again, it was also paired with the holiday's, gift-giving, gambling, and general debauchery as slaves replaced their masters.

"You say that every morning," Min huffed. Glancing around, the only light to pierce their bedroom were flickering candles. He watched the shadows dance across his lover's face. "...Is it even morning?"

"No! _Sigillaria_ is upon us, so I'm too excited to sleep." Romulus gestured about the room. Min grumbled and took the oil lamp from him before he set them both on fire, but Romulus immediately pulled him out of bed. "I decorated with the candles all night. I have some to give to you, too. They're our substitutes for human sacrifices to Saturn."

"...Glad we have both moved past that phase," Min mumbled as he was dragged across the _domus_ by an overactive child.

Stopping in the atrium, Min had to admit that the space was transformed. In the rainwater pool, in water black as the sky, the army of candles reflected like the fish in Min's pond at home. The proof that Min was where he belonged shone back at him.

"Since it's the gift-giving days, what do you want?" Romulus asked when Min went strangely quiet. "Shall we go to the market?"

Min beamed like the moon outside. "Can't we just go drinking again?"

The Roman agreed. "Alcohol is a gift in itself."


	11. a wish; ancient egypt/ancient greece & female rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: creators of hetalia's prompt weekend
> 
> prompt: dark + girls + wish
> 
> names:
> 
> ancient egypt - sekhet (one who is powerful)
> 
> ancient greece - helen (shining bright)
> 
> female carthage - ayzebel barca (unknown; lightning)
> 
> female rome - maria (feminine version of romulus' nomen, their family name)

"What do you think of our new neighbors?"

Maria halted in the shadows of the shrubs, blacker than the rest of the night around her. She and the greenery were of the same height.

"I do not think we need to worry yet," another voice said. The first voice of honey, the second of venom, both women. Maria, only a girl, hid and listened to a conversation that was not for her ears.

"You say _yet_ , dear Helen," Sekhet laughed sweetly. "Then, when do we begin?"

Maria's sandals clumsily trampled a few fallen leaves, for the girl's body was not yet her own. The cacophony of Helen's excess fountains in her peristyle smothered the noise. The three parties had gathered at the halfway point, Helen's home, for a friendly discussion.

Or so Maria had thought.

"Whenever they are not young anymore," Helen shrugged simply. "We have time to plan."

"Do we?" Sekhet's tone was ominous. "Nations these days can rise in the blink of an eye."

The Greek woman pierced the night with laughter. "Oh, everyone wishes they grew up as quickly as Carthage. Everyone but me."

Maria scrunched her nose. What was so wrong with being a girl? She had asked the same thing of Ayzebel after the Carthaginian's growth spurt. Now, Ayzebel was closer to Maria's older sister than her. Ayzebel was even closer to Helen and Sekhet than her.

"Helen, always the special case," Sekhet sighed, although there was no malice in her breath.

"You know me so well." Fabric rustled. "Would you have developed your good looks without aging so finely?"

The Egyptian woman gasped softly. "Oh! Would you have?"

Little Maria's face burned as she crept away. Would she? Would she make girlfriends like this?

She could only wish.


	12. something to remember me by; china/rome & south italy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: hetalia writer's discord's drabble game
> 
> prompt: escape + footsteps + water
> 
> names:
> 
> rome - lucius marius priscus romulus (shining; of mars or masculine; ancient; the mythical founder, 'mr. rome')
> 
> s. italy - andrea marius priscus (manly; same as above)

"Where is it?"

Instead of reading, Andrea could only focus on his father pacing in the atrium behind him. Whatever it was, Romulus' stomps reverberating even into the peristyle told Andrea it was not good.

Perched on the edge of the fountain, the boy kicked his feet nervously in the water. It had been years since they last managed to escape to their villa in Baiae, so they were supposed to be relaxing.

Whatever it was, as the oldest son, Andrea could help. He folded up his scroll and padded into the atrium, leaving a trail of wet footsteps behind.

" _Pater_!" Caught red-handed throwing the contents of a chest about the room, his father looked up, blinking owlishly. "I can't focus! What are you doing?"

"Oh..." Romulus cleared his throat and put one belonging away. Only twenty more to go, Andrea witnessed. At least none of them had landed in the rainwater pool. "Was I that loud? I apologize. Go back to your Greek scrolls."

Andrea pinched his father's nose. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Ow, okay! Why does everyone use that move on me?" Grumbling, the Roman scooped up his son in his lap. "Speaking of... Do you happen to know where my jade pendant is?"

"I noticed the slaves forgot to pack it, so I threw it in my stuff instead." Andrea crossed his arms. "What's the big deal?"

Almost as soon as he asked, Andrea knew. If Romulus were standing, he would have melted into a puddle on the floor. Even while sitting, his enormous shoulders sagged. "There isn't one."

Andrea lunged, but this time, Romulus caught his wrist.

"If you must know about your sentimental old man," the Roman chuckled, "the jade pendant is my favorite memento. My last, really. The perfume sachet doesn't smell like him anymore."

"Oh, you said you exchanged those gifts at the villa. What else did you do here?" Andrea asked innocently.

His father blanched. "Um... Nothing."


	13. poetry; china/mongolia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> event: creators of hetalia's prompt weekend (haiku edition; 50-70-50 word paragraphs)
> 
> prompt: illusion + trusted + river (which turned into all bodies of water)
> 
> names:
> 
> china - wang min (clever king)
> 
> mongolia - muunokhoi (vicious dog)

“I trusted you to ask your chefs about my tofu,” Min accused. He floated around Muunokhoi’s office like a ghost. “I’ve more important work to do than your bidding,” Muunokhoi rebuked. Pouting, Min leaned forward. “I do not eat red meat!” Looking up, Muunokhoi said, “There’s much you don’t do.” 

———

“They’re fake,” Muunokhoi observed as they strolled Khanbaliq’s palace gardens. A laugh bubbled from Min, unbidden. “What did you expect?” He explained, “An illusion of the outdoors has more beauty and less drawbacks.” Glancing at the walls, Muunokhoi huffed, “Well, I don’t like it.” After plucking a poisonously bright blossom, Min set it afloat on Taiye Pond. “Too bad. Your very own Kublai Khan entrusted a Chinese architect with it.”

———

“Why did you bring me here?” Min demanded after dismounting their horses. “You don’t like the outdoors,” Muunokhoi shrugged. “I compose landscape poetry in the courtyard every morning!” Going to grab his separately-packed lunch, Muunokhoi intercepted Min’s wrist. “Trust me.” Cresting Yuquan Mountain, they faced Taiye’s source, a natural spring.    



End file.
